“Too bad to keep you waiting,” Annabel exclaimed. “You are coming my way,” Courtlaw answered. She held up the lamp. Lucy clapped a hand over Michelle’s mouth and struck her neck with a swift blow to the carotid artery. What was it in her heart or mind or soul that went out to this man? Music—was that it? Was he powerless to stir her without the gift? But hadn't he fascinated her by his talk, gentle and winning? Ah, but that had been after he had played for her. The intoxicating sense of novelty had given place to a more business-like mood.
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